


Pretty Asshole

by punk_mikasa



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Bad Flirting, Betaed, Fluff, Iwaizumi is a bartender, M/M, Oikawa's job is a secret, and Iwaizumi is so done with his shit, bars and drinking, because apparently my characters are never sober, but oh boy, pining!oikawa, punk!Iwaizumi, there will be smut, you're not gonna escape his charm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-08-24 09:42:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8367559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punk_mikasa/pseuds/punk_mikasa
Summary: Being a bartender in this small old bar sure could get tiresome, but Iwaizumi loved everything about it.Well, except for the customers, maybe. More specifically, customers that just wouldn’t shut the fuck up. Like the man sitting in front of him right now, talking his ear off and laughing obnoxiously loudly at his own jokes while flipping his annoyingly fluffy hair out of his face.Or the AU where Iwaizumi just wants to do his job and live his life in peace, but there's this pretty persistent guy who won't stop hitting on him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay I don’t know how this happened but apparently I became massive IwaOi-Trash in a disturbing fast manner, and no one of my friends ships them as well, so I had to let my feelings out T.T  
> This was planned as a 2000-word-porn-oneshot, but oh look, I am a little shit that can’t contain herself, so this somehow evolved into… this.
> 
> Also, to my old readers, don't worry, I didn't abandon CMS, just needed a little distraction!
> 
> Mood song: [Young God by Halsey](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bUhJRQSs6UQ)

Don’t get him wrong, Iwaizumi loved his job. He loved the faint smell of cigs in the air, he loved the sound of 50’s Rock’n’Roll constantly playing in the background, and he even loved the cranky old beer tap that always produced a bit too much beer foam. Being a bartender in this small old bar sure could get tiresome, but Iwaizumi loved everything about it.

Well, except for the customers, maybe.

More specifically, customers that just _wouldn’t shut the fuck up._ Like the man sitting in front of him right now, talking his ear off and laughing obnoxiously loudly at his own jokes while flipping his annoyingly fluffy hair out of his face.

It was all Kuroo’s fault, really.

Iwaizumi knew that this fucker was an annoying shit as soon as he saw him enter the bar, Kuroo at his side. He was wearing a black tailored suit, expensive shoes, and a smug aura that practically screamed the words “spoiled brat.” Now, Iwaizumi knew that he wasn’t bad looking himself, with muscular tan arms covered in numerous tattoos, a sharp jawline and messy brown hair that always looked like he just stumbled out of bed.

But god, this guy over there? He was _gorgeous_.

Before he and Kuroo even reached the bar counter, half of the women in the bar (and even some men) had turned around to take a proper look at him. Milky white skin, hazel-brown eyes and those fucking chocolate-coloured locks on his head almost distracted the gaze from the built physique under his rich-kid-attire.

Damn. Iwaizumi almost drooled.

But of course, then he had to open his damn mouth and ruin it all.

“Ah, Tetsu-chan, why did you have to drag me into this shit-hole of a bar? Look how dirty it is,” he whined and scrunched up his snub nose. “If you wanted to have a drink we could have gone to—”

His wailing faltered as he met Iwaizumi’s pissed glare. Instead of looking away and apologizing properly—because honestly, who did this fucker think he was, insulting Iwaizumi’s beloved workplace like this—pretty-boy just stretched his lips into a bright smile. “...Nevermind, I think that place has some perks,” he said to Kuroo, who just laughed and patted him on the back.

“I knew you would like it here,” Kuroo boomed, before his eyes settled on Iwaizumi.

“Oi, long time no see!” Kuroo smirked at him and reached across the counter to grasp Iwaizumi’s hand in a casual handshake.

“You came here just yesterday, Kuroo,” Iwaizumi replied, but pulled him across the counter nevertheless to pat Kuroo’s back.

He was actually glad to see him again today. Kuroo was a fun guy and also best friends with Kenma, the owner of this bar (though Iwaizumi suspected them to be much more than just friends, but he’d never say that out loud), and evenings with him were always – well, _interesting_ , to say the least.

But something about that unsettling toothy grin told Iwaizumi that this could be one of the less pleasant evenings for him.

“What am I supposed to do when Kenma ignored me all of yesterday,” Kuroo said with a fake pout as he sat down on one of the red-cushioned high-chairs at the counter. “I had to drag my buddy here, or I wouldn’t be able to speak to Kenma for the whole week, with him being busy all the time.”

“Don’t exaggerate, Kuroo,” a voice behind Iwaizumi said in a flat tone. Kenma just magically emerged from the staff room, as if he had sensed his best friend waltzing into his bar. “We just talked over the phone this morning. You whined to me about the neighbour’s dog for hours.”

“He just looks so damn sketchy all the time,” Kuroo muttered as he shrugged out of his jacket. “Little bastard and his damn crazy eyes. I don’t trust Kyotani.”

Iwaizumi barely suppressed a snort, but he couldn’t stop his lips from stretching into a small smile as he watched the exchange between Kenma and Kuroo. However, his smile faltered when his gaze flickered over to that jerk next to Kuroo again. He had sat down as well, watching Iwaizumi with an intense gaze that Iwaizumi couldn’t quite decipher. For a brief moment he felt like he was being analysed, as if this guy had caught a brief glimpse at the bottom of Iwaizumi’s soul. But before he could even blink, the stranger had cleared his face into that bright smile again, one that undoubtedly could end wars or burn down whole cities.

But no, it definitely didn’t make Iwaizumi’s heart skip a beat.

Not at all.

“Oikawa Tooru,” the pretty boy introduced himself, though nobody had asked.

“Great,” Iwaizumi said, bored. “Whaddaya want?”

Oikawa’s smile didn’t drop. In fact, it got even brighter. “And your name is...?” he asked with a voice that was rich and deep like dripping honey.

Iwaizumi slowly grew more irritated.

“Don’t have one,” he said as rudely as possible.

Kuroo snorted, barely restraining himself from laughing out loud. Even Kenma, still standing next to Iwaizumi, let out a small huff of air through his nose—which in Kenma’s case was the highest proof of amusement one could get. Oikawa just batted his eyelashes, not perturbed in the least—damn that confident jerk—and glanced at Kuroo.

“Iwaizumi,” he explained. “Iwaizumi Hajime.”

“What the fuck, Kuroo!” Iwaizumi threw his arms up in the air as he glared at his traitorous friend. Kuroo just shrugged his shoulders unapologetically.

“It’s just a name,” he said with a way too sadistic smirk.

Oikawa just nodded satisfied, as if this was all the information he’d need for now, and Iwaizumi suddenly got the feeling that this was going to be a long evening.

“Nice to meet you, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa beamed at him.

“Wait, who said you could call me—”

“And for the drink,” Oikawa interrupted Iwaizumi nonchalantly. “I’d like to have a whiskey please. Glennfiddich, 18 years. No ice.”

Iwaizumi sent him a dirty glare, but before he could retort what was on his mind, Kuroo spoke up.

“I’ll take a beer then,” he said and brushed a hand through his ink-black hair.

Iwaizumi sighed and turned around to prepare the drinks wordlessly, but he still was able to catch Kenma staring at Kuroo with wide, golden eyes. Iwaizumi lifted a brow at him, but Kenma quickly cleared his face into his usual bored mask and brushed one of his own blond strands out of his face. Iwaizumi knew this was a nervous habit of his, but he decided to not comment on it.

“So, how was work today, Kuroo?” the bartender asked as he passed him his beer and shoved a glass of whiskey towards Oikawa.

“Straining,” his friend said before he took a sip of his beer. “I had to do all that paper shit and visit the new centre to make sure everything is going smoothly.”

Iwaizumi nodded in understanding. Kuroo was a professional fitness trainer and lead a big gym across the town. He was very passionate when it came to sports, and was damn good at his job on top of it, which was why he had an excellent reputation in his branch and was able to open up a second gym now. The opening was scheduled in two months, so Iwaizumi could only imagine how much pressure laid on the shoulders of his friends.

“That must be tough,” Kenma spoke up. Usually he was a quiet guy, always just observing instead of participating. But something about being with Kuroo seemed to let him open up more easily, Iwaizumi noticed. “If you need help with dealing with the offices and public authorities, you can always ask us.”

“Thanks, Kenma.” Kuroo smiled softly before he pulled a cigarette from his pockets and lit it. “But Oikawa here already took care of it. He... _spoke_ to the right people to speed up the process a bit.”

Oikawa beamed at the mention of his efforts.

“Anything for Tetsu-chan,” he said and took a sip of his whiskey. "Mmmh, this is really good.” He hummed appreciatively at the taste and licked his lips.

Iwaizumi put down the glass he had been cleaning rather loudly on the shelf space and cleared his throat. It suddenly felt very dry, for some reason.

“So,” he trailed of, trying to think of something else than Oikawa’s moan that was still audible in his mind. “What do you work for if you were able to help Kuroo?”

“Oh, Iwa-chan wants to know more about me?” Oikawa perked up.

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. “Just tryin’ to be polite, but whatever—”

“Well,” Oikawa said excitedly. “I’d tell you, but it’s a secret!”

Kenma furrowed his brows, but didn’t say anything.

“A secret, huh,” Iwaizumi repeated, bored. He went back to cleaning the empty beer glasses, fully willing to drop the topic.

“Yes!” Oikawa’s enthusiasm wasn’t perturbed in the least. “But if you really want to know that badly—”

“You know, I’m not really _that_ interested—”

“—If you really want to know, then take a guess! I’ll confirm or deny it,” Oikawa grinned, damn big brown eyes practically sparkling with excitement.

Iwaizumi sighed. Somehow he felt his resolution crumble when he looked at this stupid, big smile. Maybe he would indulge Oikawa in this childish game. For now, at least.

“Fine,” he admitted defeat and thought a few seconds about it.

“Florist?” he tried the first best thing that came to his mind.

“A florist?” Oikawa exclaimed incredulously, an adorable little hitch in his voice. “How would a florist help Kuroo dealing with public authorities?”

He looked almost offended.

Iwaizumi scratched his head thoughtfully. “Dunno, sold them a shit-ton of flowers maybe?”

“Nu-uh”, Oikawa tsk-ed and wiggled his index-finger. “You have to put into more effort, Iwa-chan. Take another guess.”

Iwaizumi sighed again and finally put the rag and the glass away, before he stared at Oikawa to ponder further. So what kind of job would give him the connections or skills that would be helpful for Kuroo, and still suit an annoying jerk like Oikawa?

“Model,” Iwaizumi blurted out before he could stop himself.

“Model?” Oikawa smile widened. _Uh-oh, Iwaizumi, big mistake._ “You think I have the looks for that?”

“Just figured you’d have no other valuable skills, Shittykawa.”

“Rude, Iwa-chan!”

A guest next to Kuroo signalled for another drink, but Iwaizumi was too occupied with Oikawa to notice. He didn’t even realize when Kenma slipped past him to take care of the other guest, leaving Iwaizumi to bicker with Oikawa.

“Prostitute then?” Iwaizumi tried again.

Oikawa leaned forward, resting his cheek in his palm. “Now I don’t know if you’re flattering me or trying to insult me,” he said with half-lidded eyes, his low husky voice doing _things_ to Iwaizumi.

But damn, he would not back down in front of this arrogant shit. Iwaizumi put his palms on either side of Oikawa on the counter, making sure he was showing off his defined forearms, muscles flexing as Iwaizumi bent down to look Oikawa directly into the eyes.

“Take a guess,” he hissed, satisfied to notice how Oikawa’s eyes widened, looking at him like a deer struck in the headlights.

“Yeah yeah, it’s okay,” Kuroo suddenly said next to them, tearing Iwaizumi from this weird state of tension. “Just ignore your good ol’ buddy Kuroo over here, I don’t mind. Just have your fun, you two.”

Iwaizumi snapped around, embarrassed that he had actually forgotten that the two of them were not alone.

Kuroo just grinned at him, that unsettling knowing look on his face.

“Another beer, Hajime,” he smirked. “That’d be great.”

 

\---

 

After Iwaizumi had given Kuroo his next beer, completely ignoring Oikawa’s flirtatious smile, the bartender went back to properly do his job and take care of the other guests. He whirled around, served drinks, chatted with the regulars and carried beer barrels back and forth. All the while, Iwaizumi felt a pair of eyes on him, a buzzing sensation of anticipation running through his veins. But whenever Iwaizumi would turn around, absolutely sure to finally catch Shittykawa staring at him, the guy was just engrossed in a lively conversation with Kuroo and occasionally Kenma. Just after Iwaizumi would look confused at his mop of brown locks – because he was sure that he had been staring, he could _feel_ his gaze on his skin – Oikawa would casually turn towards his direction, giving him a knowing look and a fucking _wink_.

God, this cocky jerk.

Iwaizumi’s shift came to an end, the majority of his customers already drunk or preparing to leave before the alcohol could get to them, and he found himself getting bored. He still had half an hour to kill, so there would be no harm in approaching Kuroo again.

His slightly drunk friend was busy telling Oikawa a story of a guy who crashed one of his lectures in first year by running naked across the whole auditorium.

“Are you talking about Bokuto?” Iwaizumi asked as he stepped to them.

“’f course I’m talking about that idiot,” Kuroo grinned, giving the bartender a conspiratorial smile. “That dumbass even managed to streak through three other lectures until he got caught.”

Oikawa laughed heartily at this story. The deep roll from his chest shouldn’t have turned Iwaizumi’s stomach into a twist, but it did.

Dammit.

The bartender shifted to the side, leaning against the counter.

“Was that the guy from the volleyball tournament?” Oikawa asked Kuroo.

The man nodded, emptying his sixth glass of beer. Without him noticing, Iwaizumi quickly exchanged it with a glass of water, before Kuroo got the idea of ordering another alcoholic drink. Drunk Kuroo was certainly fun to watch, but Iwaizumi couldn’t help but feel responsible if the man woke up with a huge hangover the next morning, while he still had work to do for the opening. Oikawa threw a brief glance at him, but didn’t comment.

Just this annoying smile of his, lighting up his face once he turned around to Kuroo again to wait for his reply.

“Yeah,” Kuroo answered, resting his face in his hand. “Bokuto didn’t change much from back then.” He turned to Iwaizumi. “Oikawa played in one of the opposing teams back in High School, so sometimes we met in tournament or training camp. That’s actually how I got to know him,” he explained to him.

“Oh, you’re a volleyball player as well?” Iwaizumi asked surprised.

This guy with the pretentious attire didn’t strike him as one who would play a sport with the risk of breaking that perfect, snubby nose.

“Was,” Oikawa corrected with the hint of a sad smile. “My knee didn’t allow me to continue, though.”

“That guy was a monster on the court,” Kuroo slapped him on the back. “You could see how his opponents almost pissed their pants once it was his turn to serve. Well, except us, of course, our team always won.”

Now it was Oikawa’s turn to snort “You wish, Tetsu-chan,” he said, bright smile back on his face. “You were lucky that one time, and that was just because of Kenma’s creepy ability to read every player.”

“You’re the one to talk,” Kuroo laughed and took a sip from his glass. He didn’t even notice that it was only water before he continued. “Oi, Iwaizumi here also plays.”

“Seriously?” Oikawa asked eagerly, but this time there was not the smug and self-righteous expression in his face, just pure excitement, “Which position?”

“Ace”, Iwaizumi replied, watching Oikawa’s eyes go wide in awe.

“Really? That’s so cool! I used to be a setter!” Oikawa chirped happily, starting to go on and on about different volleyball tactics, strategies to improve one’s training, and great matches in the last decades.

Surprisingly, Iwaizumi found himself not bothered by it. This passionate and excited side of Oikawa was just so outright _honest_ that he didn’t find it in him to interrupt his rant.

Not that he wanted to. Actually, Iwaizumi knew pretty much about volleyball himself, which lead to a very heated discussion about the last performance of the national team (“They played like shit.” “Why would you—Iwa-chan, how could you say something like that! Their timing and speed was absolutely on point!” “Well yeah, didn’t help them win, though.”) But their talking was interrupted.

A woman that had been staring at Oikawa for solid two hours now was approaching him. In fact, she had not been the only one who had come up to him this evening. There had been numerous advances, not that Iwaizumi had counted (twelve women and two guys, actually). Iwaizumi didn’t understand what the red-haired beauty whispered towards Oikawa, and he also couldn’t hear what he murmured back. Not that he wanted to. Hell no, he had better things to do, he had a fucking shift to do.

A shift that had ended 20 minutes ago, Iwaizumi noted in surprise as he looked at the big clock above the counter. The woman slipped a business card in the pocket of Oikawa’s suit with a seductive smile before she turned to leave. Iwaizumi stared after her for a few seconds before he turned to Oikawa again.

“Oi, stop hitting on all my customers. This isn’t a brothel,” he said irritated.

Oikawa just sent him a dazzling smile. “Ah, is Iwa-chan jelly?”

“Iwa-chan is definitely jelly.” Kuroo turned away from his conversation with one of the regulars to give his unsolicited opinion, before Iwaizumi could respond.

“Oi—” he tried to counter, but Oikawa had already leaned forward, a dark glint in his eyes.

“Could it be that Iwa-chan also wants to have my number?” he purred low.

“Stop being ridiculous,” Iwaizumi hissed, desperately hoping that his cheeks weren’t as red as he thought, while Kuroo just snickered “Nice one” to Oikawa.

Damn those two dorks, really.

“By the way, you could actually start to pay for your shit instead of spouting nonsense,” Iwaizumi rolled his eyes and grabbed two empty bottles of booze to bring it to the stockroom. “Kuroo, 19,50 Euro for you, and for Oikawa it’s 24.”

“What?! 24 Euro for this drop of whiskey and that poor excuse of beer afterwards—”

“You know what, 30 Euro for you, Shittykawa.” Iwaizumi called over his shoulder and disappeared soon enough to escape Oikawa’s loud voice of indignation.

He quickly disposed of the bottles and reached on the top shelf to grab some new ones he could put as a replacement. When he was finished and had thrown on his old leather jacket, he stepped into the bar room again, just in time to see Kuroo waving at him goodbye and leaving through the front door. Oikawa followed him, but not before giving Iwaizumi a peace-sign and, of course, a goddamn wink. Iwaizumi glared daggers at the closing door before he huffed and made his way back to the counter, planning to collect the money from these two idiots and then return home to slip under his warm, comfortable blanket.

He was about to store away Oikawa’s 40 Euros—because despite his whining about the price this pretentious asshole actually tipped really well—as he noticed a folded piece of paper underneath the bills.

“What the hell...” Iwaizumi murmured as he unfolded and read it.

 

 _“Don’t worry, Iwa-chan’s the only one who’ll get my number tonight v(°∇^*)⌒☆_ ”

 

These words were followed by a row of digits scribbled down in a neat, precise handwriting. And yes, he actually managed to put on a smiley behind his message that matched his annoying personality. Iwaizumi was almost impressed.

“Hajime?” Kenma said softly as he stepped next to him. “Didn’t your shift end long ago?”

“I, uhm... yes,” Iwaizumi answered unintelligently. “I was about to head out, actually.”

Kenma’s golden eyes flickered over his coworker’s face, searching for a hint of something, Iwaizumi didn’t know what.

“Okay,” the blond drawled. “What’s this?”

He pointed at the paper in Iwaizumi’s hand, but the bartender decided it’d be better to blush like a little school girl instead of giving a proper reply.

“Nothing.”

“Is it from Oikawa?” Kenma concluded without even blinking.

Iwaizumi sighed. There was nothing you could hide from this guy.

“Yes,” he replied. “It’s dumb, just like him,” he folded the paper again. “I’ll throw it away on my way out.”

“Uh-huh,” was the only answer he got.

Kenma didn’t sound convinced at all, but Iwaizumi started to head out anyway.

“See you tomorrow, Kenma!” Iwaizumi waved goodbye.

Despite the attentive gaze he could still feel on his back, Iwaizumi clutched the folded note in his fist as he passed the trash can. He pushed open the door to step outside and inhaled the cold night air deeply before he slipped the piece of paper into his back pocket.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iwa-chan, you can't escape Oikawa's charms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here comes chapter 2! Yes I know I said I wanted it to be only 2 chapters long, but I have zero self-control and had to write more again. I don't know yet how many chapters I will write for this - damn all the ideas that pop up for it in my mind - I will try to limit it to three chapters, but I can't promise anything.

It was about a week until Iwaizumi saw Oikawa again.

He had kept the piece of paper with his number scribbled on it, neatly folded in the drawer of his night stand. He had stared at it for at least 10 minutes the morning after he had met Oikawa, not really knowing what to do with it. He certainly didn’t want to call him, because that handsome jerk was annoying as fuck, but Iwaizumi also didn’t know why he wasn’t able to throw that message away.

So he did what he always did when he was feeling confused: simply ignore the problem.

And he lived well with this decision, really. He was able to focus on work, go on with his daily life and forget about Oikawa Tooru almost completely. That was until seven days later, when Iwaizumi was serving another beer to a customer, his back turned to the door. But suddenly, in the blink of an eye, Iwaizumi could feel the atmosphere change in the room. The people in his view looked up, and a woman nudged her giggling friend in the ribcage and pointed towards the door. A man five feet away glared in the same direction, while the one next to him seemed to lose track of what he was speaking about and blushed slightly. Iwaizumi briefly closed his eyes and took a deep breath of air before he turned around.

“Yahoo, Iwa-chan!” a chipper voice greeted him.

Oikawa stood in front of the counter, dressed in a long dark coat and a pair of black slacks, cheeks and nose reddened from the cold autumn air in an adorable way. His hair was disheveled and his eyes were sparkling as a wide smile stretched across his face. Iwaizumi stared at him.

“What are you doing here?” the bartender asked after a few seconds of silence.

“This is a bar, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa explained patiently. “I am a customer that seeks distraction from this harsh world by purchasing alcohol and engaging in mindless chatter with other restless souls.”

He unbuttoned his coat and slipped onto one of the high chairs.

“Obviously,” Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. “But I thought you said this was a – and I quote – ‘dirty shit-hole of a bar’, and you’d rather be drinking your ass off somewhere else.”

“You remember my first words? I am flattered,” Oikawa purred.

In the dim light of the bar Iwaizumi could make out the extraordinary long lashes of his eyes, contrasting the porcelain skin in a delicate way. For a moment Oikawa’s gaze was fixated on the dark wood in front of him, looking like he was deep in thought. Then he looked up again, pinning Iwaizumi on the spot with this intense gaze again, that one he had made one week ago, when their eyes first have met.

“Besides,” his voice was dark and husky, and it made Iwaizumi almost shudder with the way it caressed his ears. “I found some things I like about here.” Oikawa’s eyes flashed, before the usual nonchalant smile replaced the intense look on his face. “So you’ll be able to see more of me in the future,” he concluded and rested his face in his hands.

“Well, aren’t I a lucky guy,” Iwaizumi muttered and went back to cleaning the counter in front of him.

“Glad that you’re finally realizing,” Oikawa beamed at him. “Also, a glass of Rothschild for me.” Iwaizumi threw him a pissed glare, but Oikawa just batted his eyelashes “... Sweetie?” he added as an afterthought.

“Now you’re provoking me on purpose,” Iwaizumi gritted his teeth.

A widening grin was his response.

“Would never dream of it, Iwa-chan!”

Iwaizumi took a deep breath to stop himself from throwing his rag at Oikawa before he poured him a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon.

“Here, it’s the only red wine we serve,” he said as he put the glass in front of Oikawa, who scrunched up his nose skeptically. “If it doesn’t suit your pretentious tastes, there’s a wine bar over the street,” Iwaizumi said hopefully as Oikawa took a testing sip.

His brows furrowed.

“Just across the street,” Iwaizumi encouraged him further. “You wouldn’t even have to put on your coat again.“

Oikawa finally put down the glass again, sending Iwaizumi a pouting look.

“C’mon?” Iwaizumi tried again and rested his hands on the counter between them. “ _Wine bar_. Think about it.”

“But Iwa-chan,” Oikawa said sweetly. “There I wouldn’t receive such an excellent, personal and heart-warming service like here.”

Iwaizumi just gaped at that, and Oikawa smiled triumphantly, knowing he made Iwaizumi speechless with his retort. “Besides, I am waiting for Tetsu-chan,” he clarified after a few seconds.

“Oh, okay-,” Iwaizumi began, but was interrupted when a guest on the other end of the counter demanded his attention. He quickly turned on his heel, eager to escape this fluttering feeling in his stomach for at least a few seconds.

The bar wasn’t all that crowded tonight, so a few minutes later Iwaizumi found himself behind the register again, just across from Oikawa. He began checking the receipts from the last days. All in all the accountancy of the bar was correct, not least because there was no transaction that was able to slip Kenma’s observant gaze, but it would never hurt to check again. In his mind Iwaizumi was already at home, thinking about which series he could binge-watch tonight before exhaustion would take over in the early morning. Being a bartender was certainly an interesting job, but it definitely wasn’t suited for leading a healthy and steady lifestyle.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa suddenly said next to him, and Iwaizumi glanced up shortly, just to go back focusing on the bills in front of him.

“Hm,” he hummed as an affirmation.

Oikawa leaned forward, lessening the distance between them.

“You found my note,” he stated flatly.

Iwaizumi’s heart skipped a beat, and he was sure that Oikawa didn’t miss the way his fingers quickly curled around the last bill.

“I did,” Iwaizumi confirmed and continued punching in numbers in the calculator on the counter.

“But you didn’t call,” Oikawa noted.

“I didn’t,” he replied calmly, attention focused on the results in front of him. He had miscalculated.

“But why?” Oikawa called out, throwing his hands in the air indignantly.

Iwaizumi gave up on finding the error in his calculations for now and sighed. Then he looked up at him again.

“Oikawa, you may be ridiculously handsome,” a smug expression flashed over Oikawa’s face, just to fall at the next words. “But that doesn’t mean that everyone has to fall for you in an instant. I care about personality, not looks.”

There. He simply forgot one of the bills from yesterday evening, tucked behind an old beermat. Huffing, Iwaizumi fished the wet paper up from the dirty mat. Oikawa meanwhile was visibly scandalized by being brushed off like this.

“But I have a decent personality!” he protested. “If you just would get to know me you knew that I’m loyal and reliable, as well as attentive! Besides, this,” he lowered his voice in a conspiratorial way and tugged suggestively at the fabric of his sweater “ … is made of boyfriend-material!”

Iwaizumi leaned forward and squinted his eyes at the cobalt blue sweater, as if he was inspecting its quality.

“Are you sure?” he asked thoughtfully. “Looks kinda cheap. And clingy.”

“You _meanie_!” Oikawa gasped dramatically.

Iwaizumi just snorted and went back on stacking all the correct bills. Unfortunately, Oikawa quickly recovered from this insult and turned back to blabbering about himself.

“But Iwa-chan, I am serious!” Oikawa exclaimed and almost threw over his glass in his enthusiasm. “I am charming and endearing, and I’m gonna show it to you! I’ll make you fall for me, Iwa-chan!”

Determined, he looked at Iwaizumi, his face dead serious. The bartender just continued filling in the correct numbers in the small notebook on the counter.

“Don’t bother,” he said absentmindedly and snapped the book shut.

Another dramatic gasp.

“You don’t take me seriously!” Oikawa exclaimed, putting his hand on his heart in a scandalized manner.

“Now that,” Iwaizumi’s lips stretched into a playful grin, “ _That_ you have right.”

Oikawa was spared an indignant answer when Kuroo popped up from behind.

“Oya oya, folks,” he called cheerfully. “What’s up?”

“Just Iwa-chan being mean,” Oikawa pouted, but greeted his friend with a hug nevertheless.

“Iwaizumi and mean? I can’t imagine that,“ Kuroo laughed as he greeted the bartender as well. “This guy has a heart made of gold.“

Iwaizumi nodded with a serious expression. “I am a gentle and sensitive lamb,” he deadpanned.

“Exactly,” Kuroo agreed and sat down. “Well, except that one time maybe, when you caught that guy trying to steal your booze, and you gave him a bloody nose.”

“Yeah okay, that one time maybe,“ Iwaizumi agreed.

“And do you remember that evening when some drunk dumbass harassed Kenma’s cousin and you kicked him in the crotch?” Kuroo snorted. “Man, what a night.”

“Yes, I think he couldn’t walk straight for another two weeks,” Iwaizumi smiled blissfully at the memory.

“Or that time when those really mean suits came in and started insulting other guests? You yelled at one of them until he started to cry.”

Iwaizumi just grinned as he filled another glass with beer for a guest next to Kuroo.

“ _Or_ that time when you-”

“Okay okay, I get it!” Oikawa exclaimed exasperated. “Iwa-chan is a grumpy old grouch who is mean and intimidating all the time!”

Iwaizumi seemed to think about it and weighed his words.

“I wouldn’t say I’m mean to everyone ... just to those who really get on my nerves,“ he flashed him another big grin.

“Why thank you,“ Oikawa pouted and rested his face in his hands, shoulders slouching down.

Kuroo let out a booming laughter. “Don’t worry Oiks, Iwaizumi may be hard on the outside, but deep inside,” he fluttered his eyelashes at the bartender, which looked slightly unsettling combined with Kuroo’s predatory smirk. “Deep inside, he has a heart made of caramelised candy cotton.“

Iwaizumi grimaced, but said nothing as he handed Kuroo his usual beer unasked. Oikawa perked up.

“So does that mean I just have to try harder?“ he asked Kuroo excited.

Iwaizumi’s aghast “No!” was just overwhelmed by Kuroo’s encouraging “Exactly!”, and Oikawa beamed from ear to ear, his discouraged look from earlier long forgotten.

“Kuroo,” Iwaizumi called warningly. “You’re doing it again, goddammit!”

He only earned another cheshire smile from his friend.

 

\---

 

After this encounter, many more followed.

Iwaizumi had thought at first that Oikawa would back off if he just ignored him hard enough, but he was wrong. Also, to be honest, he was not _really_ ignoring Oikawa. Despite his obnoxious self-centeredness and pretentious big talks, Oikawa was actually a fun guy you could converse decently with. Also, as a plus, whenever he was around, the women in the bar seemed to stay longer and to order more drinks. Which meant more tips for Iwaizumi and his colleagues, so he didn’t complain when he noticed the small group of giggling girls pushing through the door and getting down into one of the booths across from the counter. He wondered if they had something like a sixth sense for the guy, since they only emerged from god-knows-where whenever Oikawa entered the bar. But just the mere prospect of something like an _Oikawa-Sensor_ sent shivers of horror down Iwaizumi’s spine, so he quickly tried to shove this disturbing thought aside.

But it proved to be quite hard to get the object of your attention out of your thoughts while it was _sitting in front of you and fucking talking your ear off again_.

“But Iwa-chan, just imagine, maybe there are really reptiloids out there that are just waiting for their leader to show up and give the signal to abduct us all-“

“Oh my god, Oikawa, would you please stop talking,” Iwaizumi said exasperated, “I will have nightmares from your horror stories.”

Oikawa stared at him.

“What do you mean horror stories, this would be a huge chance for humanity!” he insisted with glistening eyes. “Just imagine all the things we could learn from the aliens!”

Iwaizumi sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yeah well, I don’t think we’ll be able to learn much if they held us captive in some cage and examine us.”

Oikawa huffed indignantly, not understanding how Iwaizumi could be so pessimistic at a prospect like that.

“Being examined by them would be an honour, Iwa-chan,” he said solemnly and took another sip of his drink. Today it was a Ladykiller, something Iwaizumi normally wouldn’t serve (his bar mainly sold basic alcoholic beverages or plain cocktails), but after half an hour of whining he had given in and mixed the fancy longdrink for Oikawa.

Iwaizumi was very busy not noticing how Oikawa absentmindedly licked his lips after he put the glass down, when suddenly Oikawa’s eyes went wide, as if he just had a huge realisation.

Iwaizumi groaned. That couldn’t be something good.

“You don’t think they’re right here, listening to us, do you?“ Oikawa whispered and frantically looked around to see if somebody eavesdropped their conversation.

“I swear to god, Trashykawa-,“ Iwaizumi began, but was interrupted by yet another handsome guy which approached Oikawa with a flirtatious grin.

Number 6 this evening.

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes and pretended to wipe down the spotless counter one more time, just to avoid having to watch Oikawa getting hit on. It definitely didn’t bother him, no. It was just annoying that they got interrupted every few minutes, that was all.

After Oikawa talked to the guy for a few seconds and winked at him and bid him a cheerful goodbye – because somehow Oikawa managed to let all of his admirers down without them feeling too heartbroken about it – Oikawa turned to Iwaizumi again, a mischievous smirk on his lips.

Oh no. That was the look he always had when he had seen right through Iwaizumi again.

“It must be hard to be with a popular guy like me,” Oikawa said smugly, resting his face in his left hand and using the other one to fiddle with the cocktail umbrella.

Iwaizumi looked up at him, disbelief written all over his face.

“Just a minute ago you went off on how reptiloids would secretly obtain world domination, you huge fucking nerd.”

Oikawa waved a dismissing hand. “That is just my special charm,” he insisted. “Admit it, you were about to fall for me because of it.”

“Huh?” Iwaizumi deadpanned. “Yes, I could hardly control myself, Shittykawa.”

“Rude, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa whined, more out of habit than real outrage, before he sent him a determined look again. “But you don’t have to be worried-”

“How in the _ever living fuck_ did you get the idea I was worried-”

“- I am a loyal person, Iwa-chan, so no need to feel jealous!” Oikawa beamed at him, eyes sparkling and smile so fucking _wide_ that a whole new swarm of butterflies seemed to invade Iwaizumi’s stomach. It was so sickening.

“Jesus fucking Christ Oikawa, you’re really full of yourself.”

“It’s not called ‘full of yourself’, it’s called realism-” Oikawa began, but in the middle of his sentence he stopped, eyes going wide as he looked at something, or rather _someone_ , behind Iwaizumi.

The bartender turned around just in time, when the guy who had been sitting across them and who had obviously been staring at Oikawa intently, opened his mouth.

“Oikawa. Fancy seeing you here!” he called cheerfully, a cheshire grin stretching across his face.

His wild, ruby red hair did nothing to distract the gaze from bulgy eyes that stared right through them, as if they were absorbing greedily everything in their surrounding they could.

“Satori,” Oikawa’s smile was forced, Iwaizumi could tell.

“You’ve seem to be come a lot here lately,” the stranger, Satori, replied, resting his face in his right hand, playing with the cherry on top of his glass. “And here I thought you’d be working without ever taking a break.”

The way his eyes narrowed with a dangerous glint in them didn’t go unnoticed by Iwaizumi, but the bartender had no idea as to why, so he quickly looked at Oikawa to see if he had some sort of understanding. And judging by the calculating look in his eyes, he knew something Iwaizumi didn’t.

“Well, everyone needs distraction from time to time,” Oikawa answered, voice soft and gentle like the sweetest of venoms. “Besides, you know I always love to try out new places, so this bar is nothing special.”

“Hmm, sure,” Satori hummed, lips curling into a wide, unsettling smirk.

Just when Iwaizumi wondered what the hell was up with that sudden strange tension in the air, Satori’s eyes flickered over to him.

“Iwaizumi Hajime, right?” he asks, smile and eyes growing wider as he tilted his face.

For a few seconds it was silent, Iwaizumi was eying the customer surprised. Sure, he had seen the guy before in his bar, but he had never spoken to him on a more personal level, so he couldn’t explain why the hell this guy would know his full name. Before he could open his mouth and ask him, though, he heard a sharp noise next to him. Oikawa had slapped his hands on the counter, _hard_ , and rose to his feet.

“Satori,” he spoke with in a low voice, one that sent shivers down Iwaizumi’s spine, and the demonic calm smile on Oikawa’s face promised nothing but danger. “I suggest you to leave. Now. And if I were you, I wouldn’t _dare_ coming near this bar ever again.”

Up until now Iwaizumi hadn’t had the slightest idea that Oikawa could actually look intimidating, but the way his eyes pinned Satori in his place, cold and calculating, looking like the demon king himself yet wearing the biggest smile on his face, gave Iwaizumi the glimpse of what might lay underneath that mask of cheery nonsense. Oikawa was fucking _furious_ , and Iwaizumi had no idea why.

“Ololol, no need to get your panties in a twist, Oikawa,” Satori said in a sing-song voice, apparently very pleased at his reaction, but still preparing to leave the scene.

Slowly, he stood up as well and pulled a few bills out of his pocket, throwing them on the counter with a grin. “I was finished here, anyway"

Oikawa was still visibly tense as the strange guy walked away, a happy “See you soon!” throwing over his shoulder before he disappeared, but said nothing more.

Iwaizumi waited until Oikawa had sat down again and had taken in a deep breath, his whole demeanor disappearing again, being replaced by a strange look of bitter calmness on his face. Iwaizumi couldn’t stand to see him that way, so he put a shot of cherry liquor in front of him, because Oikawa loved this goddamn sweet stuff and was always in a better mood after drinking it. Oikawa smiled weakly at him before he downed the drink in one go, wiping his mouth afterwards.

“Thanks,” he said quietly, almost ashamed. “And ... sorry for the outburst.”

“It’s okay, but...” Iwaizumi replied, still a bit flabbergasted. “Oikawa, what the hell was that about?”

Instead of giving him a straight answer – because when was Oikawa actually straight forward – he lifted his gaze and watched Iwaizumi carefully.

“Iwa-chan, do you know this guy?” he asked. “Does he come here often?”

“Well, no,” Iwaizumi scratched his head as he thought about it. “I mean I’ve seen him before, but not often-“

“Listen Iwa-chan,” Oikawa interrupted him, voice urging and serious. “Satori Tendou is not to be trusted. You have to be extremely careful around him. He is dangerous.”

Iwaizumi blinked at him. “Don’t you think you’re exaggerating?“

“No, I’m serious!” Oikawa exclaimed, hands clenching around the edge of the counter. “Don’t come close to him, don’t tell him anything about yourself and don’t believe _anything_ he says! He’s one of those people you need to keep a long distance from. If you’ll ever see him again, or if some other strange guy like him approaches you, you call me. Understood?”

This time, it was not the usual flirty demeanor of him, he was deadly serious as he looked Iwaizumi straight in the face. There was something about Oikawa in that moment that had Iwaizumi shivering in fear, an aura of this so-called ‘monster’ that Kuroo talked about once.

_“You could see his opponents almost pissed their pants.”_

Suddenly Iwaizumi was not so sure anymore if Kuroo had only talked about volleyball on that day.

Oikawa rummaged through his coat pocket and pulled out a pen and a crumbled piece of paper.

“Here, I’ll give you my business number-“ The way he stuck out his tongue as he started scribbling down concentrated was simply adorable, and Iwaizumi didn’t even think when he opened his mouth and spoke his next words.

“No need, I still have your note,” he said.

“Oh?” A smug smile played around the corners of Oikawa’s lips as he paused. “You haven’t thrown it away by now?”

_Well, shit._

“I barely clean at home,” Iwaizumi lied and wiped down the counter again, for approximately the twentieth time this evening.

“I see,” Oikawa smiled with a look in his eyes that the bartender couldn’t quite decipher. “So Iwa-chan, remember, if you see him you call me. Promise?”

His tone had something desperate in it, and Iwaizumi couldn’t bring himself to decline.

“Ehm … okay,” he agreed slowly, still not understanding what this strange interaction had been about. “Oikawa, is really everything alright?” he asked cautiously.

Oikawa took a deep breath again, closing his eyes for a brief moment before he opened them. The solemn expression was gone, replaced by his usual bright smile, entirely charming and entirely fake.

“I will be alright as long as you give me another one of those cherry shots, Iwa-chan.”

 

 ---

 

Once Iwaizumi gave him what he ordered, the bartender had to serve a few other guests next to them. The group of men celebrating a bachelor party were obnoxiously loud, but overall friendly and well-paying, so Iwaizumi didn’t say anything as they engrossed him in a pointless talk about how they would torture their groom before bringing him back home to his much-too-sweet-for-him fiancée. The bartender nodded and smiled at their banters, but kept a close eye on Oikawa the whole time.

The man had gone silent, not being his usual loud and cheerful self, staring thoughtfully at the wooden surface in front of him. He looked as if he was thinking hard about something, probably analysing the former interaction in every detail, and Iwaizumi felt a sinking feeling in his stomach.

And then he realized it.

He wanted nothing more but to see Oikawa happy, chirping some nonsense to Iwaizumi about useless stuff, and Iwaizumi just couldn’t take seeing the man so _mopey_.

After the group of men paid the bill, Iwaizumi swung a clean rag across his shoulders and stepped in front of Oikawa again.

“That guy just now,” he began, watching the way Oikawa’s shoulders tensed at the mention of Tendou. “He said you’d be working without ever taking a break. But you still haven’t told me what the fuck it is you’re working as.”

Iwaizumi could see the tension slipping away from Oikawa, and when he smiled at him brightly – an honest smile, eyes crinkling and lips stretching upwards in a more relaxed manner – Iwaizumi couldn’t help but feel relieved.

 _You know why you want him to smile at you like this._ A gloating voice in his mind whispered to him. _Because it makes you feel all warm inside, doesn’t it?_

 _Shut the fuck up_ , he replied to himself, successfully blocking out the voice for now, focusing on the man in front of him again.

“Well like I said, Iwa-chan has to guess, otherwise I won’t tell it,” Oikawa said happily, his shining eyes making Iwaizumi’s heart skip a beat.

At least he had teared Oikawa out of this weird seriousness, had distracted him enough so that he’d forget momentarily. So of course, Iwaizumi would indulge again, just to see Oikawa smile a little longer. Because that was what good bartenders did, wasn’t it?

“Business man?” he asked.

“Nope.”

“Astronaut?”

“Haha, this would be great, wouldn’t it!” Oikawa called out excitedly and leaned forward. “Just imagine being able to go out for a spacewalk and meet some aliens ~!”

Iwaizumi snorted, muttered a “Reptiloids, you mean,” and Oikawa laughed at this. “Yes, that would be cool! But unfortunately no, I’m not an astronaut.”

Iwaizumi wracked his brain.

“Hm ... you aren’t a criminal, are you?” he asked and leaned forward, curious on Oikawa’s reaction.

“Oh, does Iwa-chan have a thing for bad guys now?” Oikawa asked with sudden interest.

“Crappykawa,” Iwaizumi flicked him on the forehead before he leaned back, remembering to go back on cleaning the surface of the counter again.

“Ouch,” Oikawa rubbed the spot he had been flicked on, “That was a new one. Don’t turn my name into new insults!” he whined.

“There are a whole lot more insults I can think of,” Iwaizumi tried to hide the smile in his voice, not sure if he was able to do so.

“Iwa-chan’s so mean!” Oikawa wailed. “You can just call me Tooru, you know?”

“Nope. Not gonna happen,” Iwaizumi laughed. “… Assykawa,” he added with a smug smile.

“Hey, stop that!”

 

The rest of the evening went on like this, Iwaizumi trying to guess Oikawa’s profession, and coming up with new insults when he didn’t succeed. Oikawa whined loudly about how cold and classless Iwaizumi was, but he clearly was in a better mood than before. Eventually Iwaizumi had to kick him out as well as some other restless guests who had been drinking until closing time, and when he tidied up the counter and swept the tab room for the last time this evening, he had a smile on his face and a song on his lips.Even as he stepped out into the cold night, when the sun was slowly rising in the west, Iwaizumi was still in a good mood, not feeling the usual exhaustion after a long night at the bar.

However, when he turned the key in the backdoor and closed the bar, he couldn’t help the unsettling feeling of somebody watching him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN DUN DUUUUN.
> 
> Okay so this was chapter 2, I hope you liked it! I am currently starting the smut for next chapter, but I still haven't figured out who will top and who will bottom for their first sexy time (◕‿◕✿)

**Author's Note:**

> Anyone who read my other fics knows what Oikawa's profession is. I am so predictable. 
> 
> \---
> 
> Thanks to [blueparakeets](http://archiveofourown.org/users/blueparakeets/pseuds/blueparakeets) for betaing!
> 
> Also, everyone can always come to my tumblr [punk-mikasa](http://punk-mikasa.tumblr.com/) and demand cookies for reading this whole fic. ヽ(‘ ∇‘ )ノ


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